By Danny Neary
You're packing your bags again. You say you're leaving because we never talk or laugh like we use to, as if the reason we don't is my fault and not the fault of our capitalist overlords who overwork and underpay us.
You're yelling at me again. You don't know why I keep liking other girls' Instagram posts, as if you don't know as well as me that social media is one of the few resources we have to connect with others in our age of loneliness and alienation.
You're mad I forgot our anniversary again. I'm sorry I'm not some Type A Wall Street executive with a fancy assistant to keep track of those things for him. I'm sorry I don't have a black card and can't buy you a fancy gift, or take you out, or skip my DSA meeting just because year 3 is special to you. And I know you think the gifts you wanted from Target aren't that expensive but they add up.
You're asking me to put my phone away while we're at your best friend's wedding. I know you're sad and I'm ruining your day but I didn't want to forget these ideas before I remember to write them down in my notes app and I had to reply to Neera Tanden right away so she didn't think she won the argument.
Your feelings are hurt again because I keep criticizing the movies, music, and TV shows you like. I really wish I could enjoy Little Women with you but for that to happen Greta Gerwig would have to learn that Idpol is no substitute for class solidarity. I'm not sure that will ever happen so I guess you'll be on your way again.
You're complaining we don't have as much sex as we used to. I hear you, I really do. It's just a shame we don't live in the Soviet Union where statistically they had more sex and women had more orgasms. You can look it up if you don't believe me but if we didn't have to spend all day wasting our energy serving capitalists maybe I'd have more energy for you at night.
You're upset I'm spending another night on the couch alone getting high. I'm not sure why you look down on me for using a substance that would be legal if we weren't ruled over by an evil capitalist system that criminalizes pleasure. The pharmaceutical companies are the real enemy and yet I'm vilified just because I want to spend 4-6 nights a week smoking weed and arguing on the Chapo Trap House subreddit.
You're mad I'm using my one week off to go to a DSA convention in Austin. Which is ironic considering I'd have another 4-5 weeks off to spend with you if we lived in a country that was a social democracy and not a capitalist hellscape.
You're gone for good. You took everything and left for real this time. You say you're happier now, you say you love your new apartment, and your new boyfriend is a nice guy despite working for Goldman Sachs. You may fool all your new friends and everyone else smiling with you in those party photos but you'll never fool me. I know no matter how many lavish gifts he gives you, no matter how many beach vacations you take, or how many kids you can have now that your boyfriend doesn't think reproduction is irresponsible during a climate catastrophe, that deep down you'll always miss the nights we spent together watching Slavoj Zizek videos on my cracked iPhone 6.